The desolation of the dragon
by L'alto
Summary: Far over the Misty Mountains cold, To dungeons deep and caverns old. We must away, ere break of day, To claim our pale enchanted gold


_**The Desolation of the dragon **_

_Far over the Misty Mountains cold_

_To dungeons deep and caverns old_

_We must away, ere break of day_

_To claim our pale enchanted gold_

The full moon hung low in the sky, its weak light barely penetrating the darkness that lay over the Lonely Mountain and the little town beside it. The stars, usually glistening brightly in the sky, were snuffed out by the thick, dark clouds that crept past the town. The town was still, almost unnaturally so, and in the silence, the sound of thick wing beats could be heard. Yet the inhabitants of the town and the Mountain slumbered on, deaf to the world and to the sound that heralded their doom.

_The pines were roaring upon the height_

A roar split the silence of the night, a roar that awakened the slumbering town and struck fear into the hearts of men. Throughout the town, people rushed into the streets to gaze upon a terrible sight, a sight everyone had hoped they would never see in their short lives.

The pines on the mountain roared as they were devoured by the flames.

_The winds were moaning in the night_

The breeze that had been blowing in the town now turned stronger, whipping up the flames, turning the fire into a monster. It blew among the trees and the town, and the ghostly moan it made as it blew echoed the fear the men felt as they watched death rush ever closer towards them.

A terrifying voice carried on the wind, mixing with the moan, feeding their fear like the gust fed the flames. "Fear me! For I am fire, and I am death. I am Smaug!"

_The fire was red, it flaming spread_

The impenetrable darkness that had lain over the town made it easy to see the flames, red and orange and yellow, licking and devouring the pines on the Mountain, rushing closer and closer towards them. The fire roared as it ate up the pines, and in its light, a dark shape was silhouetted against the night sky, a gigantic figure with wings.

_The trees like torches blazed with light_

The trees blazed in the night, in a terrible parody of the torches that hung in the homes of the people of Laketown, and in the halls of the dwarf lords. The light illuminated the figure as it drew closer, and men and dwarves alike were finally able to see it for what it was. It was a legend they had only ever heard of in the stories they were told as children, a myth they had never really believed to be real.

It was a dragon, and it had come to claim the Lonely Mountain.

_The bells were ringing in the Dale_

In the town, someone had finally had the sense to set an alarm, and the bells on the bell tower started ringing, their discordant clanging setting an accompaniment for the macabre melody of the roar of the flames and the screams of the people. Death approached the town on foot, its footsteps echoing in the ringing of the bells, counting down the time the people had left.

_Clang._

_ Clang._

_ Clang._

_And men looked up with faces pale_

The streets were suddenly emptied as men rushed back into their houses, only to emerge again armed with swords, with axes, with bows, with pitchforks. The women and children hid in their homes, looking with pale faces as their men watched the sky and aimed their weapons at the dragon. But what good could these weapons do, against a foe so terrible?

_ The dragon's ire, more fierce than fire _

Arrows ricocheted off the dragon's hide, and swords thrown from rooftops bounced off its scales. Nothing could harm the dragon, and the men could only watch as the dragon, growing incensed at the onslaught, turned its great head towards its attackers and let loose a stream of flames. The last sight many of them saw was the unearthly glow of the dragon's eyes and the red glow of fire.

_Laid low their towers and houses frail_

The town burned under the ire of the dragon's attack, the frail buildings never standing a chance against the might of such a beast. The dragon flattened the town in an instant, more easily that a child crushing a leaf. As Laketown collapsed upon itself, and the screams of the men were silenced, the dragon turned its head towards its real target: the Lonely Mountain.

_The mountain smoked beneath the moon_

The dragon aimed a great jet of flame towards the mountain, and it caught onto the great doors of the halls, turning them to ash. The trees continued to shriek as they burned, echoing the terrified shrieks of the dwarves as they raced around inside the mountain. Big plumes of smoke, jet-black as the colour of the dragon's scales, rose up into the night, turning the sky an even darker shade of black. Yet somehow, the moon still managed to glow weakly through the smoke, shedding its light onto the scene of destruction below.

_The dwarves they heard the tramp of doom_

The dwarves had heard the screams in Laketown, heard the crackling of the fire and the crumpling of the town even inside their mountain, and they were terrified. They knew, just as the people of Laketown had known, that this was their end; they heard the footsteps of their doom, like the people of Laketown had, in the bells that still rang in the desecrated town.

_They fled the hall, to dying fall_

The gates of the great hall were flung open, and dwarves flooded out of the mountain, running as fast as they could to escape from the terror that was the dragon. But the dragon would not let its victims go. It reared its head and sent a jet of flame racing towards the fleeing crowd, and the shriek of the dwarves were cut off as they died among the flames.

_Beneath his feet, beneath the moon_

The town lay in ruins, the mountain smoking and blazing in the night, and the bodies of the dead lay in abundance. The desolation of the dragon lay beneath its feet, as it perched itself on the very top of the mountain, surveying the devastation it had caused. Meanwhile, the moon continued to shine in the sky, its light falling onto the death that had happened on this fateful night.

_Far over the Misty Mountains grim_

_To dungeons deep and caverns dim_

_We must away, ere break of day_

_To claim our harps and gold from him!_


End file.
